


Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it

by theaeblackthorn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Sexual Situations, Dubious Consent, Epic Bromance, F/M, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Incubus Stiles, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mario Kart, Stilinski Family Feels, mentions of non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-10-09
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:32:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theaeblackthorn/pseuds/theaeblackthorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He made someone come. </p><p>And pass out. Apparently that's a thing, that he did. Fuck. "Fuck."</p><p>He sits, hard and confused on the edge of the toilet, trying and failing to hold whatever-his-name-is up as his weight knocks Stiles backwards into the toilet. He really hopes the last person in here flushed. </p><p>Fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward doesn't even begin to describe it

**Author's Note:**

> By the nature of an incubus story there are some elements of dub con, for both Stiles and other parties. They're pretty brief and none are described in detail. Also, some awkward sex.
> 
> I... apparently writing not-sterek when Stiles is an incubus is hard, but I think I did it. Many many many thanks to [tuesdaymidnight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaymidnight) for the absolutely fantastic beta on this! Hyphens, hyphens everywhere!
> 
> For the following prompt by [jeminamoonnight](http://jeminamoonnight.tumblr.com):
> 
> As Stiles reaches sexual maturity he finds out that he's inherited not just his mother's eyes, but also her succubus/incubus nature. Stiles is left conflicted, his only choices being to die or become a (sexual) predator. Luckily, he has several superhuman werewolf friends with an abundance of life force to share, and when they find out Stiles' predicament they aren't about to stand around and let him die.

This isn't the first time Stiles has been at Jungle and had someone grind up against him on the dance floor, but this is the first time that Ginger's not chased them off. He's going to take that as an “all good, you can fuck this one.”

He wants to say this isn't the way he thought he'd lose his virginity, but he'd be lying. A stranger in a filthy club toilet sounds about right. He's not an idealist; he doesn't want to find someone he loves and be absolutely shit in bed, so yeah: club toilets, what he hopes is water on the floor, and a sweaty guy who's biting a bit too roughly at his neck. Hoshit that's definitely a hand down his pants Ok. He's down with this. 

He thinks for a moment of saying something, but they're piping the music in here, and he can hear the groans from the next stall over. There's a sniff that's definitely someone snorting something, and fuck the guy's pushing oddly gently on Stiles's shoulder, scratching blunt fingers through Stiles's sweaty hair, as he directs him down. 

It's so fucking _hot_ in here, his lips are sticky with Coke he's been drinking, at least it covers the stale taste of beer on the other guy's lips. Stiles lets himself be pushed and finds his ass teetering on the edge of the cold, metal toilet. 

"Condom," Stiles croaks out, and fuck fuck fuck this is actually happening. Shit. Awesome. Right. Way to go, self. 

The guy smirks down at him and actually fucking caresses Stiles's face. "You look fucking perfect down there, like you were made for it." 

Stiles rolls his eyes, he might be young and stupid but he's not dumb. "Made for it or not, you better have a condom or I'm not blowing you." 

And... wow, he just actually said those words. Fuck yes Stiles Stilinski is an adult. The guy smirks and before Stiles knows it a condom is being pushed into his chest. 

Fuck yeah safe sex. 

It's awkward jerking someone else's dick, not that he needs to do much to get the guy hard enough to put the condom on. He's watched videos, fuck, he can do this. He can. Stiles has been holding the guy's cock, staring at it for maybe a beat too long, long enough for the guy, even under the layer of drunkenness that's sitting on him, has noticed. 

Stiles goes to lean forward, first taste and all that shit, but before he can get there, the guy is stooping down and catching Stiles's lips in a fucking bruising kiss, while a warm hand grabs the hard line of his dick. 

It's not 'til he pulls away that Stiles realizes he's the one making those pathetic moaning sounds.

"Yeah, you're so fucking beautiful." Rough thumbs are running over his slick lips and Stiles darts out to taste one. All he tastes is sweat and stale cigarettes. 

Before he can think about it he leans forward and licks a stripe over the dick in his hand. The guy moans. Fuck yeah he can do this. There's a lot of spit, shit, he's like drooling all over this guy's dick, but the guy most definitely doesn't seem to mind. Not in the way he's got one hand banging against the stall, the other tangled in Stiles's hair, not in the way he's groaning and, fuck, stutterfucking into Stiles's mouth as he comes.

He made someone come. 

And pass out. Apparently that's a thing, that he did. Fuck. "Fuck."

He sits, hard and confused on the edge of the toilet, trying and failing to hold whatever-his-name-is up as his weight knocks Stiles backwards into the toilet. He really hopes the last person in here flushed. 

Fuck. 

*

Hangovers at school are the worst, especially when it's not really a hangover because he basically drank nothing alcoholic. Club-over? Party-over? Too much exertion, too much sweating and getting home way too late after he'd handed the passed out guy over to the staff. Maybe he's just dehydrated. When he got home it took him way too long to jerk off considering how worked up he was, and it was a pretty fucking unfulfilling orgasm. 

Does giving a blowjob make him not a virgin anymore? Fuck, he doesn't know but he feels like shit. There's a jittery buzz under his skin and he can't-- he's so tired, but he can't sit still and he--

"Mr Stilinski! If you don't stop moving right this instant I'll be seeing you after class." Harris is a douche. 

"Sir, that's not--" 

"Or if you talk again!"

"But I'm only trying to--" 

"Detention!"

"That's not even--"

"Don't make me make it two days." 

"Urgh."

As Harris turns back to the board, his phone buzzes. 

_Harris is a dick_. God bless Scott. 

He quickly types back, _tell me about it_.

*

He's late to practice because of douchebag Harris' douchey detention. When he races into the locker room the only other person there is Danny, sans shirt. There's got to be one perk of the day. 

"Hey man," Stiles calls and starts stripping out of his shirt. He's still so fucking tired, he almost hopes coach will let him sit most of the practice out, or call him out for being late. He could go for that right about now. 

That itch under his skin is still there. He almost wonders if it's something to do with the most unfulfilling orgasm ever last night, especially after the guy had been so hot, and jesus, he could have had that mouth around his dick. His mouth was pretty fucking great for kissing, hell, his hands had been magical in Stiles's hair, on his skin, his ass. Thinking about warm fingers rubbing along his crack is really--

Great, now he's hard in the locker room and he's got practice to go to. 

He looks up to check that Danny hasn't noticed and finds him staring straight at him. Yeah, of course he is. Fucking typical. 

"Hey Danny," he says, because let's face it he's a bit of a dick sometimes, and endlessly optimistic. "Like what you see?" 

What he isn't expecting is for Danny to cock an eyebrow and go, "Looking pretty hot, Stilinski. Is that a hickey on your neck?" 

Stiles slaps a hand straight to his throat, right to where the guy had been biting like a motherfucker and wills himself not to flush red. Of course that's not gonna work. 

Danny wolf-whistles and does this eyebrow waggle thing that Stiles didn't even know he _could_ do. "Looks like beard-burn if you ask me. Got a thing for stubbly guys, huh? 'Miguel' makes a whole lot more sense now." 

He knows Danny's teasing him, but, fuck his life, and okay, this is when the weird thing happens. Danny's been moving slowly closer and suddenly Danny's all up in his space. 

"Huh, you're... I never noticed how hot your moles are before." 

Stiles narrows his eyes and tries to give Danny a suspicious look. "What?" 

Danny reaches up a hand and traces near to the corner of his mouth. His moles, probably his moles. 

"Uh, hi Danny, this is pretty... friendly. You're being overly friendly. What's up with that?" 

Why did you say the word 'up', don't say the word 'up'. His eyes nervously flick to his dick and yeah, fuck, the lacrosse shorts are hiding nothing. Danny's eyes follow his down and a grin breaks out across his face. "Want a little help with that?"

"Uhh...."

Leaning in, Danny places a kiss on his cheek, edging in until Danny's lips are kissing the corner of Stiles's mouth. Stiles' brain can't actually process what is happening right now, part of him is screaming “GO FOR IT” and the other half is screaming, “SOMETHING ISN'T RIGHT HERE.” 

"Danny! What's the holdup?" Greenberg shouts and seems to shatter whatever was happening between them. 

Danny pulls away from Stiles, confusion written all over his face. 

"The hell, Stilinski?" He doesn't sound angry, just confused. 

"Uh..." 

"Danny!" Greenberg's footsteps are getting closer. 

"Coming, man!" Danny calls back and grabs his lacrosse stick and leaves. 

Stiles decides to skip practice. He just doesn't feel up for it today. Fuck his life-- “up for it.” 

*

Once is an accident, twice is an incident, and Stiles doesn't want to reach three times. That's two weird sex-related things that have happened to him in less than twenty-four hours. This definitely calls for lockdown and some hardcore researching. 

He grabs three packs of chips, some red vines, and a couple of bottles Mountain Dew before switch on his Mac. First stop: google. 

Two inappropriate (is it appropriate if you're looking at porn?) boners later and Stiles hasn't found much. There's some pretty tame porn, involving lots of young gay teens and locker rooms, but that's it. Nothing that gives him a clue to what might be going on with him.

He falls asleep earlier than normal; he's got a headache now, and he just can't focus on _anything_. Maybe an early night will help him, maybe he'll feel better once he's slept. If he can ever get to sleep. 

*

In the morning Stiles feels even _worse_ if that's possible. He's nauseated and drenched in sweat, literally every bone in his body aches, the blankets hurt. He texts his dad, _call in sick for me pls_. 

There's a knock on his door. "Stiles, you know the deal, I have to see you sick if I'm going to call it in." 

Stiles groans and kicks off his covers. Everything feels too sensitive on his skin. 

"I'm coming in kid, try and be decent." 

There's a cool hand on his forehead and Stiles flinches away from it. 

"Guess you're not playing hookie, you're really burning up. I'll call the school. Need anything?" 

Stiles shakes his head, which makes his headache worse. His dad leaves him a box of aspirin and a large bottle of water. Stiles starfishes on the bed and tries to find a position that makes him feel less like death. 

*

He knows he's got a fever even though he feels cold and clammy, which somewhere means this is probably some horrible fever dream, but he is so ridiculously hard right now. Like, who the hell gets hard when they're _sick_? Apparently he does. 

Everything's _too much_ , the light's too bright, the sheets are too real, his dick's too hard. Fuck, since when is he reduced to humping the sheets? Fuck, why does that even feel good? No matter how much he rubs against the material he never feels any closer to coming. 

Crap what's wrong with him? Why isn't he just reaching down and jerking himself off like he normally would? He tries, and tries, til his dick kinda aches and he still can't come. Is this some horrible nightmare? It's got to be. It's got to be. If there are two things in life Stiles is sure of it's that Scott is his best friend and that he can jerk off like a pro. 

*

When Stiles finally comes to it's likes something out of one of his weirdest dreams. Scott's lying next to him, their cocks are both out and softening, and there's come splattered up both of their chests. He closes his eyes, and tries opening them again. No, still the same, that's still Scott's cock. 

Stiles is panting hard and so is Scott. He can still feel the orgasm in his bones and... what the hell? 

"Scott?" Stiles asks, his voice hoarse. 

"Dude." Scott sounds just as confused as he feels. 

"Uh, what the hell just happened?" 

"I swear I came to bring you homework, and then, I don't know man, it's just black. I remember walking in here and then nothing." 

He is very carefully not freaking out right now. He's distracted by the realization that he's actually starting to feel better-- his headache is less an ache making him unable to think like before, simmering down to just a minor annoyance. 

Stiles grabs some tissues and tries to wipe the come off before it dries, his shirt's already a lost cause given how soaked through with sweat it is. Like a good bro he passes a wad of tissues to Scott. 

"I think something weird is going on." Scott's tucking his dick in and Stiles does not look, because this is Scott, his brother. 

It's not like they haven't jerked off in the same room before, when they were younger and just figuring out what their junk did, but, well, they've seriously outgrown that. And back then it didn't go hand in hand with blackouts and weird illnesses. Also? Stiles is pretty sure he had his hand on Scott's dick, which is so far into wrong territory that he doesn't even want to think about it. 

"No shit, Scott." He tries for sarcastic but doesn't quite make it-- he's actually really fucking worried about what's happening to him.

Three times is a pattern. 

*

He hits google again, and it actually takes _Scott_ to suggest he checks the bestiary and... yeah, Stiles has an idea about what's going on, but he doesn't like the idea, and it most definitely involves his parents and sex and fuck that. 

Unless he's some sort of weird incubus changeling. Which, he is a huge dick, and a shitty son, it'd probably make sense if he was actually meant to be, like, a punishment for his parents or something. 

What if he was? It's not like his dad's life is any better with him in it, and his mom-- fuck. Okay. 

"Dude, I think you're a succubus."

Stiles drops his head against the desk, maybe a little too hard. "Ow."

"This is kinda... I wonder if a succubus bit you, and now you're a succubus too, like with me and werewolves."

"Incubus. I'm a dude, bro."

"What's an incubus? Because you totally match like all of the stuff for a succubus--"

"It's a guy succubus."

"Oh, okay, yeah." A moment of silence. "I think maybe we need to talk to Deaton?"

"Maybe..." Stiles trails off, unsure. Deaton might be able to help, but he thinks he needs to speak to his dad first. Like this wasn't going to be a horrible and uncomfortable conversation. 

*

Stiles is waiting at the dining room table when his dad gets home, some of the homework Scott had brought him scattered around him. It'd been an easy split: Stiles took his dad, Scott took Deaton.

"You're looking better, kid." His dad rests a hand on his shoulder. 

"Yeah, I spent the day sleeping." Truth is Stiles still feels exhausted down to his bones, and he has no idea what the cost was for what happened with Scott. He's spent as long today researching legends about succubi as he has ways to make sure he's not a threat to anyone he loves. 

His dad gives his shoulder a squeeze before heading to the kitchen. "You already eaten?"

"No, I wasn't feeling hungry." Not for food, anyway. Fuck.

"Want me to make us something? I could heat something up from the freezer." 

"I... can we get take out?" Stiles just wants a nice night with his dad, he might be some evil demon or whatever, but he still loves his dad, okay? 

His dad's head pokes around the corner. "Geez, you must really be sick, son. Homework, _and_ offering me take out."

Stiles huffs but he just... he can't okay? He can't really deal with the fact that he's... assaulting people, that he needs something from them to stay alive, that he's a freaking sex demon. He's become the monster that needs containing, that needs killing. 

"Stiles?"

He's so fucking tired again, and that pull is back, the itch under his skin he got at Jungle, the one he got before the fever started. Just like the same way his mom had-- 

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay kiddo." He feels himself being pulled up into a hug. "Come on, maybe you shouldn't be doing homework right now. Another day off school won't--" 

He always thought his mom had died of cancer. She'd been in pain, and then she'd just withered away. It had all happened so quickly, what if she was like him? What if she was where he got this from? What if that was what happened if he didn't feed? He knows he's got no brain-to-mouth filter, but now he needs to know. "What did mom die of?"

The hand rubbing his back stills as his father falls silent. "I... you know kid. She died of cancer."

"I know I was little, but I never... what type of cancer killed mom?" It's hard to hear his voice because it's muffled in his dad's shirt. 

His dad's silent long enough to make Stiles think he's right; he's onto something. 

"Dad?" He prompts, pulling back a little. 

"You've got her nose, you know. And her eyes." His dad heaves a sigh. "I really hoped I'd never have to have this conversation, kid. I always thought... I thought you took after me, but I should have know. You look _so damn like her_." 

Stiles is almost scared to ask the question, like actually voicing this will make it real. He's about to talk about succubi with his dad, his dad who doesn't even know about _anything_ supernatural (or so he thought). 

He pauses for a breath before asking again. "Dad... what did mom really die from?"

His dad closes his eyes. "We're gonna need to have a talk."

*

No person is inherently good or evil, and just because someone's not human doesn't mean they're not a person. He remembers his mom feeding him mac and cheese when he was sick, showing him how to color in pictures, telling him he was too young to watch those cartoons. 

Then he thinks of a succubus, he thinks of a soulless sex demon, fucking people and killing them with delight, causing sorrow and pain. The two images are so incompatible in his head that he just can't put them together, and he finds he doesn't even want to try. 

"Stiles? Talk to me here. I know it's a lot to understand, but..." 

"I don't-- did mom kill people?" 

The scotch came out just before the word succubus was uttered for the first time, now his dad takes a sip of his second glass. "No, never. Your mom said she'd hurt some people, when she was a teenager and first started--" Another sip, a pause. "Needing energy from other people."

He takes that in, that's good, that's his mom the way he remembers her-- she would have never hurt anyone. Mom stopped and gave money to every homeless person they passed. He'd asked her one day why she did it, when other people said they were just drug users, or drunks, and she was stupid for trusting them.

_Because I'd rather be stupid than turn down the one homeless person who actually needs my help. You shouldn't be worried about what people think of you when someone needs help._

"I miss mom," Stiles blurts out before he can stop himself. 

His dad nods. "Every day." He raises his glass to her and takes a small sip. 

They sit in silence for a few more moments as Stiles tries to think of what to ask next. They haven't discussed what's happened, what even made Stiles question that he might not be entirely human. This is going to be even more awkward. 

"You're taking this... really well, kid." 

Stiles swallows.. 

"One could say it's almost not a surprise to you. At all." Dad is giving him the “sheriff look,” the one that says he knows Stiles knows something. 

"I... so, funny story, I might know some werewolves." 

He explains, as much as he can, about Derek Hale, and Peter, and Scott, the hunters, the kanima. When he's done he can barely stay awake. His skin's clammy, he doesn't already need a fix, does he? 

"Well... That explains a helluva lot. Why didn't you come to me for help through any of this, kid?"

"I was trying to protect you! Keeping you out of it meant keeping you safe."

His dad _actually rolls his eyes_. "Stiles, you're my son! It's my job to protect you, not the other way around. My job, _literally_ , is keeping you safe." 

"But there were _werewolves_ , dad." 

"And I married a succubus, give me a little credit. But honest to god, that's about the best news you've told me all night." 

Stiles is so ready to argue, he needs his dad safe and policing the human population of Beacon Hills, not worrying about the supernatural population. "Exactly, because you know-- wait, what?!" 

"Werewolves are about the best friends a succubus can get. They can share their life forces without any permanent damage. Your mother had an... arrangement... with Talia Hale. She'd stop over to see them once or twice a year, get her fill. The rest of the time she just stole little bits from me, it didn't even have to be--"

"Oh god dad, don't say it."

"Full blown sex, sometimes just a kiss. I'd be tired, but every now and then didn't cause any lasting damage. She even learned how to control it so she never took any from me unless she wanted. It's how we had you, kiddo."

Stiles is simultaneously grossed out and relieved. Mostly grossed out, no, relieved. Definitely relie-- grossed out. 

The words are out of his mouth before he can even think them through. "But then, how did mom die?" 

"The Hale house burned down, and there was no one..." His dad pauses, taking a long drink of his whiskey. It takes a moment but he can see his dad pull himself together. "There were no werewolves left who she could contact. Your mom couldn't only survive on what she took from me. I begged her to see other people, but, every now and then she-- you need a hit big enough to kill a person, unless that person is a werewolf."

It was so obvious he should have understood: with no werewolves, and refusing to hurt anyone, his mother had starved to death within the year. 

*

Stiles doesn't reach for his phone as it buzzes again, it's just going to be Scott with another great idea. They'd spoken earlier and yeah, Deaton had given Scott almost the same story that his dad had told him. 

Stiles can see his mom clear as day in his parents' bed, slowly withering away. She must have been so hungry near the end, he can already feel the ache settled into his bones and it's less than a day since he fed off Scott. 

He feeds off people now. That's a thing he does. 

"You're not answering your phone." Stiles stuffs his head into his pillows to avoid looking up at Scott, who's probably doing the sensible thing and keeping a safe distance from him.

The bed dips as Scott sits next to him. 

"Dude, are you okay?" 

Stiles can feel the pull inside of him, the itch under his skin that's telling him to draw Scott in, get him off and _feed_. He buries his head deeper into his pillows. 

"Stiles?"

"No."

"This is totally not the worst thing that could have happened. You're always complaining that you're the only one of us that isn't something cool and supernatural, and now you are." Scott's voice is so sincere Stiles legitimately wants to punch him.

"Dude, this fucking _sucks_. I wanted sex but this wasn't... this isn't what I wanted. I wanted people to have a choice, to want to fuck me. It's like this: imagine you really wanted chocolate ice cream but no one would let you have any."

"I love chocolate ice cream," Scott agrees, waiting for Stiles to continue. 

"Now imagine someone told you everyone you met was going to throw chocolate ice cream at you, but if you eat it you're going to basically _kill_ them, drain every ounce of joy and life out of their bodies, which is so far from what you ever wanted that you can barely even comprehend it. And then you find out your mom starv--, and you _had_ to eat your friends-- and maybe even your frenemies, and--"

Scott's wrapping an arm around him, and Stiles realizes he's shaking, like an addict in need of a fix. 

"Bro, whatever happens you got me; I'll never let you starve." 

Stiles lets himself slump against Scott, half worried that he's going to start doing something skeezy like leaching energy through the hug. What if he can't even hug people anymore, what if he can't hug his dad?

"Do you... do you need another fix?" Scott asks uncertainly. 

"No." He's not going to feed off Scott again, he's _not_

"Your dad said kissing works sometimes, right? Just to take the edge off?" 

"Yeah, but--"

"C'mon man, we can do this."

Kissing Scott isn't weird, the first person Stiles had ever even drunkenly kissed had been Scott as they both giggled and tried to stay quiet so they didn't wake his dad. The thing is though, Stiles isn't getting anything from this kiss, just a vaguely awkward feeling and the knowledge that Scott really should have shaved this morning. 

"This isn't working." 

"You're not getting anything?"

Stiles shakes his head. "Maybe because it doesn't feel, urgh, sexual at all with you?" 

"What if you do your incubus thing?"

He squints at Scott. "Dude, you're basically asking me to assault you. No." 

"It's not assault if I'm giving you permission." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I'm not getting into an argument with you about consent. You're my best friend, my brother, I don't want to do that with you. I don't know if I'll be able to stop it at a kiss." 

"But your mom could, right?" 

"Dad said she could."

"So did Deaton, which--"

"Fuck, I've got to learn how to control this." He still aches and he can see the shake in his hands now. Soon the fever will be back and it'll be totally uncontrollable. He doesn't know how much restraint his mom must have had in order to starve herself. 

"And you're going to need someone to practice with."

"No, bro, no. I'll find someone else, or--"

"Stiles you can't put someone in danger just because you don't want to accidentally fuck one of your friends! Friends who are offering to help you!"

Stiles stops, whatever he's about to say dies on his tongue. "Scott, _you_ might have people lining up to help you, but have you met me? I'm not exactly overflowing in the friends or looks departments."

"No one's come because you haven't _told_ anyone you need help yet. You need to learn how to ask for help, Stiles. You can't fix everything by yourself."

*

He doesn't want to be at this stupid pack meeting, sharing his “problem” with his “friends.” He'd rather be... okay fuck, he has no idea where he'd rather be, because he's _hungry_ in a way that aches down to his bones. 

"Why are we here, Mccall? I've got places to be that aren't-- Stilinski can you just sit still for one freaking minute!" 

Stiles is about to call Jackson out for being a douche when Lydia beats him to it. "Shut up, Jackson, you know he can't help it." 

He stares at her for a moment. "Uh, yeah, thanks Lydia."

She gives him the briefest nod before turning to Scott. "Doesn't answer why we're here. Spit it out, Scott, Jackson and I are supposed to be seeing the eight o'clock showing of Pacific Rim." 

Scott looks at him and fuck, he doesn't want their help they're not... they've been thrown together by circumstances, maybe one day they might be friends, but even then it's _his_ problem. 

"Scott." Stiles is so tired and everyone looks so very appealing right now. "Don't worry about it."

"Stiles, we've been over this. They're your friends, too."

"Scott--" He pleads. 

"Stiles is a succubus."

There's a beat and then all eyes are on him. Great. 

"I think you mean incubus." It's Lydia again, and she's looking at him like he's a puzzle to be solved. 

" _Incubus_ , thank you!" Stiles almost shouts. How many times does he have to tell Scott? 

" _You're_ a sex-demon?" Jackson sneers. 

"Excuse you, yes I am. Got a problem with that?" 

"None at all. In fact I think it's hilarious. Ha ha." Jackson's dry fake-laugh echoes in the room. 

"Shut-up Jackson."  
"Shut-up Jackson."

He looks over at Derek in surprise. "Thanks." 

Derek shrugs. "Now, why the hell are we here?" 

Stiles lets Scott tell the rest of the group what he thinks they need to know, glossing over his mom, and his need to learn control. He spends most of the discussion picking at a loose thread on his jeans. This is a stupid plan, and he doesn't, Erica's looking so pretty tonight, all wicked grins, and look, something in him whispers, look at the way Boyd's arm is thrown around her. Don't you want that? Wouldn't that feel good? 

He focuses on where Boyd's finger is absently stroking Erica's shoulder. Imagine that, wouldn't that be just the best? Imagine Erica over you, pinning you down, Boyd beneath you, he'd be so strong under your arms, so would she, either of them could crush you, but they wouldn't, imagine... 

"Stiles!" There are arms holding him back and Scott's shouting in his ear. "Snap out of it!"

Derek and Isaac are holding onto Erica and Boyd, who are both zoned out, eyes glazed and staring at Stiles. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Scott's arm is warm across his chest and Stiles lets himself sag back against him. "I got you, bro. Don't worry about it." 

"We need to help him, Derek. Deaton said your mom," Derek's nostrils flare alarmingly, but Scott presses on. "She used to help Stiles' mom, and we don't know if it was because she was the alpha, or because she was a wolf, or _anything_. Stiles needs a fix soon or he's going to start doing _this_ to anyone. They won't realize, he won't realize and it won't be fair to anyone. He'll be a danger to Beacon Hills, to the pack." 

"Don't beg," Stiles says sharply. Derek's face has the same expression as when he'd asked Stiles to cut off his arm; he wasn't giving in. "I don't need someone to beg for me. If no one's willing I'll just..." Stiles trails off, because he's not going to hurt someone, he's not that person. But there's no way he's leaving his dad alone, or his friends. 

"Don't be such a drama queen. What do you need?" Erica asks, and god he wants _everything_.

"Right this second? I could really use a kiss, just to take the edge off," he brings his hands up to rub at his eyes. "I can't think clearly, everything's so _fuzzy_." 

The second he says it Erica's right up in his space, soft fingers are grasping his chin and tilting his head up. 

"Are you sure?" He whispers against her lips. 

"Mmhmm," she answers and then they're kissing. It barely takes a second before he feels the energy spreading from his lips to the rest of his body. It's flowing down his throat, along his arms, right up to the fingers that are tangled in her hair. 

Every movement of her lips pushes another jolt towards him and he greedily drinks it down, it's so good, so good, so good. There's the wet movement of her tongue and whoa, yeah, okay, the energy increases and wow, Erica can really fucking kiss. 

When she finally pulls away, he opens his eyes and catches the last hint of a gold shining light flowing between the two of them. Erica's pupils are blown, but there's no glazed expression that says he's accidentally whammied her again. 

She llicks the taste of him off of her lips and, shit, he's hard. He shifts and drops his hands awkwardly into his lap. He doesn't feel like he did after the handjob with Scott, but he definitely feels better, there's less of a haze over his thoughts. 

"Mmm, that was _nice_." Erica grins. 

"Dude, that was kinda... " Scott shifts awkwardly. 

"Horrible and soul sucking?" Stiles's cheeks are warm. 

"Hot. I was going to say 'hot'." 

"Oh." That's better than he was expecting. He thinks. Maybe. "Does that mean you don't mind helping." 

Erica “playfully” shoves him. "Stiles, we'd never let you starve."

The rest of the group are mostly nodding. Well, Jackson is frowning, and Derek is... studiously not meeting Stiles's eyes. Huh, that doesn't matter, he just needs people he can't kill to practice on, it's not like he needs an alpha or anything. 

*

"Deaton thinks the reason your mom could go so long between big hits was because she was feeding off of an alpha." Scott drops onto his bed, shrugging off his jacket. 

"What?" Stiles spins away from his laptop, toward the bed. 

"I was talking with Deaton, you know, about your condition." 

"Why does he think it needs to be the alpha?"

"Their healing powers are better than the rest of the pack, and uh, generally they're more powerful than the rest of us." 

"But dude, I really don't want to sleep with Derek; it would be horribly awkward and he'd never say 'yes' anyway."

"Won't cost anything to ask."

"Oh my god it will cost me _every_ bit of dignity I have to ask."

"But what if it meant you wouldn't have to do anything with anyone else for _months_? Bro, it'd totally be worth it."

"Urgh, I hate when you're right, you know that, right?"

Scott nods and gives him that little smile that means he's proud he's done something right. 

"The rest of Derek's pack are helping you practice restraint, right?"

He tries not to think about the way Erica feels pressed up against him. He fails. 

Scott wrinkles his nose. "I'll take that as a yes."

Stiles shrugs. "Got to learn to live with it bro, your best friend is an incubus. Haha, dude they should totally make a show about us, a werewolf and an incubus that're best friends and like, fight crime and shit. It'd be epic. I'd watch."

"We'd probably be some teen show on the CW or something."

"You bet we would; it'd be _awesome_." 

They sit there for a minute, grinning at each other. "I bet TV!Stiles would be all smooth as shit, sleeping with everyone who comes along and loving it." His mind jumps to where this conversation had started and his mood sours. "Urgh, I bet TV!Stiles wouldn't have to awkwardly ask TV!Derek to sleep with him."

Scott reaches over and squeeze his shoulder. "Want me to do it?" 

"It's okay bro, I can do it. I don't need you to pimp me. Or reverse pimp me. Which way is it if you're begging someone to have sex with you?"

"It'll be fine."

"This is going to be horrible."

Scott's hand on his shoulder gives one final squeeze before letting go. "It'll be fine," he repeats.

*

He's been standing outside of the entrance to Derek's loft for at least ten minutes, building up to knocking on the heavy metal door, when Derek pulls it open. 

"What do you want, Stiles?" Derek's eyebrows are drawn down in a confused expression. 

"This is a stupid idea, I can't do this--" Stiles turns to leave, expecting Derek's arm to shoot out and grab him, tell him it's not, that it's okay, come in. Of course he doesn't, Derek's probably the only person in Beacon Hills with more of a messed up head than Stiles. 

He makes it almost to the end of the corridor before he forces himself turn around, back to where Derek's looking a little conflicted about letting Stiles walk away when he quite clearly needs help. (At least, Stiles doesn't think he's projecting those emotions onto Derek.)

"I need to fuck you."

Derek expression becomes very, very blank. That's worrying. 

"No wait, that came out wrong, I might not need to fuck you, or, well, maybe not me fucking you--" Shit he can feel his cheeks heating up. "I mean, I don't know who needs to do the fucking, uh, tab A into slot B or, you know, slot D into tab S, but, I mean. Oh god please stop me talking." 

After a moment Derek says, "I'm not going to fuck you." Like he's talking to a child. 

He flails, he's man enough to admit he flails. "I didn't-- I was trying to say we might not even need to-- it might be okay if I just jerk you off or I could blow you? Hey, I could totally give you a blow job."

Derek's expression hasn't changed much. "I don't want a blow job from you, Stiles." 

"Hey! I'll have you know the last person I gave a blow job to passed out." 

Derek cocks an eyebrow, like he _knows_ that was incubus-related. 

"Okay fine! It might have been to do with how I stole a bit of his life force as I blew him. But, look, Erica and Boyd have made sure I'm pretty well fed, so this should only--"

"You slept with Erica? With Boyd?" Now Derek sounds concerned, it's nice to see there are people out there he cares about. 

Stiles flushes bright red. "No! Oh my god, _no_. They've just, uh--" He runs his hand nervously over the back of his head. "We just made out a little, which was pretty fucking awesome. They're really strong, but kissing them, it's not _enough_ ; what I get from them only lasts me a couple of days." 

Derek looks ready to argue, so Stiles doesn't let him get a chance to speak. 

Stiles doesn't like throwing himself on Derek's mercy, but subtlety has never been one of his many talents. "Your mom used to help my mom, and, I don't know exactly _how_ , but, I'm really hoping you can do the same for me." 

He sees Derek take a breath to shout and braces himself, it was a fifty-fifty risk talking about his mom, but all Derek shouts is: "Isaac! Go for a run, go see Scott, whatever, give us at least a couple of hours."

Stiles can't look Isaac in the eye as he passes, not even to scowl at the little bitchface he _knows_ he pulls as he brushes past him. Derek hands him a twenty as he passes, tells him to go have fun. 

When the sound of Isaac's footsteps has long ago died out, Stiles asks, "So, uh, how do you want to do this?"

Derek strips out of his wifebeater and starts walking toward the bed. "Try not to influence me with your powers if you can help it-- I don't like not being in control." 

Stiles nods and rushes to catch up to Derek. 

"Are we clear?"

Stiles swallows, his mouth dry. "Ye--, uh, yeah, crystal. As clear as a clear thing that's... clear. See through, we are transparent, we're--"

"Shut up, Stiles." Derek sits on the edge of his bed and starts unbuttoning his fly. 

"Right, okay, I'll just--" Stiles goes to take off his own t-shirt but stops. He's not getting anything from this; he's just going to blow Derek. Okay, that's okay, that's what he proposed. He's okay. 

He drops to his knees in front of Derek, landing awkwardly enough that even he can hear his knees hitting the floor. 

"Do you want a pillow?"

Stiles shakes his head and can't look away from Derek's crotch. Derek hasn't pulled himself out, but Stiles can see the loose fabric of his briefs; he's not hard. 

He takes a deep breath, then another, he can do this, he's done this, he's had a cock in his mouth before, why should this be any different? His brain supplies answers all too easily: because it's light outside, because this isn't for fun, because this is _Derek_ , because he hasn't even kissed him. 

"Stiles?" There's concern in Derek's voice now. 

Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but all that comes out is, "You have really nice sheets." 

Silence. Did he really just say-- fuck his life, how does he get himself into situations like this?

"Stiles," Derek calls carefully, almost softly. "Come up here." 

He doesn't actually know if he can look up, he's got himself in some pretty awkward situations before, but this is pretty high up there. 

Derek's hand wraps around his arm and tugs him up, off his knees. 

"You've made out with people before, yeah?" Derek asks, finger rubbing against the thin skin of the inside of his wrist. 

Stiles nods. 

"People other than Erica and Boyd?" He hates that Derek will know if he lies. "Yes." 

"You're hiding something." It's not an accusation, just curiosity. He's never seen Derek this calm before, this... harmless. Oh god, if Derek's trying this hard he must actually be worried about Stiles. 

He doesn't want to be doing this. "This was a stupid idea." 

"I said I'd help, Stiles. Come on, you need to relax. Let me guess, one other person?" 

Stiles licks his lips and inclines his head slightly. He still can't look at Derek.

Derek's other hand comes up around his waist, spreading over the base of his spine.

"We could just lie here and kiss for a bit? Maybe that'll be enough from an alpha," Derek suggests. 

"That seems a bit... intimate?" 

Derek actually huffs a laugh at that. "You were just about to try and blow me, but making out seems intimate?" 

"Hey! That's totally different, dude! There are faces near faces."

Derek rolls his eyes. "There was about to be face near cock, that's almost as--"

"Oh my god how are we even arguing this? Yes, I'll make out with you." 

The awkward is back almost instantly. "Well done, Stiles."

"Hey, less sarcasm, how do you want to do this?" 

There a tug and he's falling on top of Derek. "You've got a really soft bed."

"Can you please stop complimenting my soft furnishings?" Derek's body is hard and warm beneath him and sitting up here Stiles feels oddly powerful.

"They're a really nice color as well."

Derek rolls his eyes, _again_ , and leans up to kiss Stiles. 

"Okay, got it, don't talk about your decorating choices."

Derek snorts. "Come on, practice makes perfect, if nothing else you'll be a pro at making out by the end of this."

*

Sucking off Derek gives out less of a glow than there is when he's just kissing Erica. He doesn't feel nearly as full as he could be. 

"Did it work?" Derek asks, as they're lying on the bed, catching their breath.

"Uh--" Stiles wants to lie, he really does. It shouldn't have taken them nearly two hours to get into it enough that they could both come. He hadn't expected Derek to want to get him off too, that was-- it was the first time he'd ever come with someone else. 

"That bad?" Derek asks, sounding defeated. 

"It was about the same as kissing Erica," Stiles confesses, fishing around for tissues to wipe up his come with. 

"I'm sorry."

"Don't-- thanks for trying, Derek. I know it was really, uh, um... " Why the hell doesn't Derek have any tissues? Doesn't he jerk off in his bed ever? "I appreciated it."

"You're welcome."

He lies there in bed next to Derek, spunk cooling on his skin and feeling really fucking awkward. What do you say after your mostly-friend has almost-sex with you because you're an incubus and he might be the biggest hit you were gonna get. 

"Want to play Mario Kart?" He turns to face at Derek. 

Derek stares back. "I suck at Mario Kart, even Isaac beats me." Isaac is pretty fucking bad. 

"Well, consider this me repaying the favor. Come on, gimme some tissues, put some pants on, and I'll show you how to beat Isaac's ass next time you two play." 

A box of tissues his Stiles straight in the chest, landing in the cooling come. 

"Joke's on you, buddy." He swipes a couple of tissues to the swoosh of Derek's jeans. "You just threw them _in_ my come."

Stiles tosses the used tissues on the floor, grabs his pants, and follows Derek toward the sofa.

*

The party had been Scott's idea, okay, well, mostly Scott's idea. Maybe he should rephrase that and say the party had been Scott's idea because it was his birthday, and the game of spin the bottle had been Erica's idea? Because as it turns out Erica is a fucking _pro_ at ideas on how to train a sex demon. 

Yeah, he said those words. 

"So here are the rules, no stealing energy from the humans, take everything you can from the 'wolves. You have to do a forfeit every time you fail at one of those."

Stiles rolls his eyes. "And what about the rest of you?" 

Erica's grin is positively wicked. "We just enjoy ourselves." She pushes the empty bottle of Jack towards Stiles. "You spin first."

He fingers the bottle carefully, this could be dangerous, but, everyone can see when he's feeding, and it's not like-- 

"Stop thinking, Stilinski, and spin the bottle!" Boyd calls. 

"Ok, ok!" He spins it and bites on his lip, waiting to see where it lands. 

He looks up along the length of the bottle, past the peeling label, and along the long neck straight up to-- Allison. Stiles shoots a nervous glance at Scott who grins. "Be careful, man." 

Allison's grinning as she leans over the bottle. "Try not to steal any of my energy, Stiles. I'll be needing that later." She throws a wink over at Scott before she presses her smiling lips against Stiles's. 

The kiss is short, nothing but a few seconds warmth and pressure; he can smell Allison's perfume and it's-- okay. It's okay. But maybe Allison is like Scott, maybe he doesn't feel anything sexual for her because she's like his sister. Like family. 

Scott bumps his shoulder as he settles back into his seat. "Way to go, bro." 

The game passes, with Stiles cackling as Scott and Jackson kiss and both grimace. He gets a little higher as he kisses each of the 'wolves in the pack, even a little coming from Scott, but Erica and Boyd giving the most as ever. In fact, out of all the pack only Isaac gives him the least amount of a hit; it's something to think about, what do Isaac and Derek share in common apart from tragic pasts and being giant loners who-- 

Oh. Maybe. Erica and Boyd are grinning at each other as Boyd's spin as landed firmly on Erica. Scott and Allison are sharing a look, stupid happy puppies in love and-- maybe the best hits are from those already filled with love, happy and healthy. 

He doesn't get to think about it more because it's turn again, and as he spins the bottle he can almost feel where it's going to land before it does. 

Lydia arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him as it lands on her. Stiles swallows, his throat suddenly dry. 

He thinks Lydia might be a little tipsy, because as she kneels up and over to him she falters a little. "C'mon Stiles," she teases. "Think you can do this? You've managed not to feed on Allison, but lets see how you do with me." 

Carefully he cups her face, he can almost see the sheen of gold where his hand is resting against her cheek. It takes everything he has but he pulls it back inside, he thinks about Lydia, about her as a person, thinks about the things she does he likes, the things she does that he doesn't. She's more than just a meal, more than just soft skin under his fingers, so very soft... 

"Stiles!" Scott's pulling at him and his eyes fly open, when had he closed them?

He can see the last traces of gold streaming towards him, as Jackson holds Lydia back against himself with an arm around her waist.

Lydia blinks and he can see he didn't only feed, but he put the whammy on her too. "Fuck," he sighs. 

Scott lets go of his shoulder. "Maybe you're not ready for the Lydia-hurdle yet." 

From across the circle, Lydia sniffs in disdain. "I'm not a hurdle."

"To Stiles you are," Scott answers. 

The burn on his cheeks is nothing new, he's used to it around Lydia, even if they are sort-of friends now. 

They all sit in awkward silence for a few moments, before Allison claps her hands. "Drinks! We definitely needs drinks. Who wants a beer?" She rises to her feet so much more gracefully than Stiles will ever be able to accomplish. 

"Yes _please_." With one last glance at Lydia, Stiles jumps up. "Let me give you a hand with them." 

*

Stiles likes beer. Beer is good. It's all beery and, it makes things softer and warmer and smell better and--

"Stop sniffing me, Stiles." Erica complains without any heat. "It tickles." 

Erica, of course, Erica is the best and most best person in the world. "You're the best."

Her fingers still where they're carding through his hair, and he makes a noise of distress until she starts again. "Damn right I'm the best." 

If he were a kitten, or a dog, or, whatever, he would be purring, Erica's fingers should be illegal, they feel so amazingly good on his head, they're almost perfect. 

"So Stiles," she drawls, and even through the haze of alcohol he's aware enough to be nervous. That's a tone that promises mischief. "I hear your date with our ever majestic alpha didn't go too well, huh?" 

"Urgh." Stiles turns his head and buries it in the rough material of Erica's jeans. He loves Erica's thighs. "Don't wanna talk about it." 

"That bad, huh?" 

Mario Kart had been good, and, Derek had really tried with him, he just-- "He's not happy."

"Hm?" She prompts. 

He's so thirsty, beer would fix this, beer fixes everything. "Imagine if I was a beer-demon." He puts on what he thinks is a suitable beer-demon voice. "Must feed me beer. Beeeeer."

Erica's laugh is louder than the music. "That's a zombie, Stiles." 

He pouts. "A beer-zombie." 

"A zombie that feeds on beer, huh?" 

He nods his head emphatically. "Beeeeeer." No beer materializes. "Beeeeeer," he repeats in a slightly more demanding voice. 

"You gotta lift your head if you want this," Erica says, pressing a cold can against his cheek. 

He tilts his head and opens his mouth. "Pour it in, I can swallow like you wouldn't believe." 

Erica cackles. "I'm guessing that's not what Derek said?" 

She tips some beer into Stiles's mouth just as what she said filters through and he ends up spluttering and choking on the beer. 

"Oh my god, _low blow_." He wipes at his face with the cuff of his shirt, but it's a lost cause, he's going to smell like beer whatever he does. 

Erica's still grinning, and now Stiles is sitting up he can see Isaac and Scott are on the other end of the ridiculously large sofa the Martin's own. They're frantically bashing at their controllers and Stiles can see the four-split of Mario Kart on the screen. 

He swipes his beer off Erica and leans against her side this time, upright enough that he can drink easily. 

"So, Derek..." Erica prompts, _again_. 

"Urgh, I don't want to talk about it." Stiles throws an arm dramatically over his eyes, like he can hide from all of this. 

"But that was our great plan: you sleep with Derek, you get enough energy so you don't have to feed for a long time." 

"S'not going to work."

"Why?" 

"Derek's not-- it wasn't a big enough hit." Derek's problems aren't his to talk about, and it was personal. Derek didn't have to help him and Stiles isn't going to say thank you by sharing all of the gory details with the pack. 

Before Erica can dig deeper, Isaac throws down his controller as Scott crows his obvious victory. Isaac flops back against the sofa, making Stiles spill more beer down himself. He glares over at Isaac. 

"Dude, that wasn't cool." 

Isaac rolls his eyes and fuck, someone's been spending too much time with Derek. "You'll get over it." 

"We were having a serious conversation here!" 

"Well, why don't you just fuck Erica and be done with it. Why does it have to be Derek?" Isaac picks up his controller off the floor as the next game starts. 

"That's a stupid idea," Stiles says to Isaac's side, as Isaac has already turned back to the game. "That's a stupid idea," he repeats to Erica. 

"Why?" She asks and at moments like this she just reminds him of Lydia so very, very much. 

"Because you're not the alpha." 

She rolls her eyes. "And look how well that worked out for you. Why else not?"

"Because you don't want to..." 

Erica reaches over and cups his cheek, running a soft finger over his skin. "Where did you get that idea?"

"But what about Boyd?" Stiles asks, trying not lean into her touch. He can already feel like he wants to with Erica, what had taken hours with Derek feels like it's always there with her. That level of intimacy that isn't awkward; she's his friend, his bro. 

"I wouldn't stop you," Boyd calls from the floor, throwing a banana at Isaac. "It'd take more than sex with you to mess with what me and Erica have."

"I love you hunny bunny," Erica tells Boyd. 

"Love you too, pumpkin." 

Stiles pulls a face at the sickeningly cute nicknames. "But..." 

"It's not the worst idea, Batman." She smiles at him and drops his hand. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, when you're a world more sober. Now move over, someone needs to show these boys how to actually play this game."

She shoves into Isaac and swipes his controller as he's left pouting. 

Stiles watches her, oddly turned on with the itch under his skin that he's come to recognize as need, he needs Erica, no, he _wants_ Erica. 

*

"Are you sure this is safe?" Stiles asks. He can't take his eyes off of Erica. She's dressed down today and while he fucking loves her in the sexy as hell corsets, he's pretty sure he likes the laid back look. She looks more comfortable, and dude, he won't even wear jeans that show off his ass (he likes his ass, ok? he's well aware of one of his better assets) because they're uncomfortable.

Erica holds up a strip of condoms. "I'm safe-sexed up, don't worry." 

Stiles shares at the shiny packages, shit he's actually going to do this. "I didn't--" He gulps. "I meant, what if I take too much, or you change your mind and I can't stop, or I make you do something you don't want to, or I take too much..."

Erica's eyes go soft. "Don't worry Stiles, that won't happen." 

That gets him because _how can she be so sure?!_ How is she being so reckless with her own safety? If he hurt Erica he wouldn't be able to live with himself. "How can you just say that?! Why aren't you worried? I mean the only reason I can--" 

And then the penny drops. The only way he'd be one hundred percent sure that nothing horrible was going to happen would be if someone else was listening, and there were a lot of verbal checks. The look of fake innocence on Erica's face is enough to confirm it. 

"Who?" 

"I don't-- I didn't want to make this more than it was, I didn't want to make you more nervous than you were already going to be." 

"Who is it, Erica?" His mind flicks between people, could be Scott, that'd be weird but he could probably live with it, or maybe Boyd? He is about to sleep with the guy's girlfriend, or--

"Derek." Of course it's Derek. 

"Oh god." He addresses the wall of the room. "I swear to god, Derek, do you really want a front row seat to every awkward sexual encounter in my life? You need a hobby, one that doesn't involve me and sex." 

There's a moment and then Erica is laughing, the sound echoing around the room-- Derek's master bedroom. 

"What did he say?" Stiles is half dreading the answer. 

"He said you better hurry up, because he's playing Call of Duty and he's not going to wait for you to finish to finish." 

Stiles frowns at the wall. "What the hell? I thought we had an agreement, man!" 

He looks at Erica, awaiting a response. "Oh no, Stiles. If you want to carry on the bickering, you're going to have to do it face to face." 

She steps into his space, her hands coming up and resting on his ass. 

"You wanna come fuck me yet?" She whispers the words into his mouth and whoa, yeah, there it is. He loves kissing Erica, it makes him feel alive and not in some bodice-ripping romance way, literally _alive_. 

The pull continues as she kisses across his jaw, taking a second to press her teeth into his skin. Everywhere Erica touches him there's the thrum of energy transferring, and even though he's nervous, even though he knows Derek is listening to them right now, his cock is already making his boxer-briefs too tight. 

He doesn't know where to put his hands, putting them straight on her ass feels... disrespectful? But she is _kneading_ his, so... Erica's ass is amazing, it's tight and firm in his hands and holyshit he can pull her into him, so his cock is grinding up against her-- stomach?

"Oh my god, Erica, you're--" He tugs her away from his neck, back to his mouth. He can't stop kissing her, can't break from the kisses long enough to catch his breath, she's addictive, he never wants to stop, he wants the feel of her always on--

Shit, he's doing it again. He pulls away from Erica and steps back. Her mouth is red, her lips kiss-bitten, I did that, he thinks, brings a hand to his own and runs a blunt nail across them, they're so tender. 

"What's wrong?" Erica asks, stripping off her top. "Why'd you stop?" Her pants are the next to go until she's standing in front of him in batman panties and a sleek, black bra. 

"I thought..." He'd been so sure he'd started using his powers on her. "I wasn't, y'know, controlling you?" 

"Oh honey," Erica coos. "That was just plain old lust, nothing supernatural there." 

Oh. "You're sure?" 

She nods. "Mmhm, now get out of those clothes. I've felt you enough, I want to see you." And there's something in her leer that goes straight to his dick and makes him want to get his pants off right the hell now. 

He strips down to his boxer-briefs and tries not to be offended when Erica starts laughing at him. He frowns. "Hey, I know I'm not as built as _Boyd_ , but--"

"It's not that," Erica gasps out. "You're wearing batman underwear." 

He shrugs.

"So am I, dumbass. Our underwear matches. That's... get over here, I want a picture. Boyd will not believe this." She fishes her phone out of her jeans and throws an arm around Stiles's neck, pulling him close so she can snap a picture of them. 

"Oh my god, you're sending a picture of my cock to your boyfriend, this is weird, Erica this is weird." He might be freaking a little, just a little. 

Erica rolls her eyes and hits send. "You've got underwear on, that's the point."

"But I'm hard, oh my god." 

"Relax, Boyd will think it's hilarious." Erica's phone goes off and she snorts before holding out the text for Stiles to read. 

‘dorks’ That's Boyd's reply, ‘dorks'. "How do you have the coolest boyfriend ever?" Stiles laments, at the lack of his own boyfriend, or girlfriend, whatever, he's not too picky. 

"I know, right? He's the fucking best."

"I want a boyfriend as awesome as Boyd," Stiles complains, flopping back onto the bed. 

"Aww, poor baby." Erica climbs up onto the bed too, onto Stiles. "Maybe once you've got this all under control we can find you a nice boyfriend, hm? Or girlfriend?"

Erica settles herself right on to of his cock and grinds down, oh god oh god, this isn't going to last, he isn't going to last. "Shit Erica, I'm not--" He bucks up into her a little and grabs at the cool sheets. 

"Yeah, batman." Erica's grin is wolfish when he finally looks up at her. "I want to see you cream your pretty little batman underwear, think you can do it for me?" 

She shifts, reaching down and then, whoa, Erica's, fuck, she's opened herself up, underwear still on and his cloth-clad cock has the warm feel of Erica's lips wrapped around it, as she thrusts up against him. 

"Mmm, yeah, Stiles. How does that feel, huh? Can you feel how wet I am yet?" He can't-- shit, there's a bit of dampness seeping through, he'd thought--, but it is--, oh, fuck, fuck-- That's it, that's pushed him over and he's coming, arching up enough to throw someone who isn't Erica off of him.

It's short and violent, as orgasms go, and she keeps riding him until it's too much, too much, and he tries to push her off of his dick but hoshit she won't go and too much.

"Erica..." he whines, fingers tangled in the sheets. "Too much..." 

She bends over and pulls his hands up, threading her fingers through his and pinning them to the bed. 

"Want me to stop?" 

He bites his lip and nods, sighing in relief when she raises herself up a little. He's a sweaty mess and he knows they've barely even begun. "You're going to be the death of me." 

Erica grins wickedly. "I'm kinda aiming for the opposite." 

Stiles rolls his eyes and pushes himself up on his elbows, his brain's still a bit fuzzy from his orgasm, and, yeah, Erica's now seen his face when he comes, which is probably the closest he can get to a person. 

"The internet said..." Erica smiles, like she knows she's going to enjoy whatever comes out of his mouth next. "Multiple orgasms?" 

She nods. "Not everyone, but, yeah, I can go more than once, and pretty quickly. How about you? How long before you're hard again?" 

He almost doesn't like to say it, but, he's not exactly softening right now. At all. "Uh, normally? Like, twenty minutes, maybe? But, my dick kinda hasn't flagged." 

Erica's hand on his dick makes him flinch, it's still a little too much, but, not like it used to be, not like when he'd jack himself off and try for that second go, dick going soft in his hand. 

He stares down at her hand wrapped around his dick, his come soaking through the black material of his underwear, making a darker patch. "I wonder if it's part of the incubus thing?" 

Erica hums'. "Whatever it is, it can wait. I want to get off, come on Stiles, let me show you how to get a girl off."

*

Erica's wet, like, he never got that before, people saying girls are wet because, like, they weren't watery and-- okay look, the point is his fingers are stroking through her slick folds and it's hot, okay? 

The smell of Erica is overwhelming, even over the smell of his own spunk. He wants to get closer but that would mean untangling himself from her. The smooth skin of her thighs rubs against his cock and stomach as he jerks her off. Is it jerking off if it's a girl? Do they get another word? Shit, he should google that. 

"Split your fingers either side of my clit," Erica commands, rising up and cradling Stiles's head to her chest. The headboard of Derek's bed digs into his back, but he doesn't care, he _so_ doesn't care. Not as long as Erica is sighing his name while he rubs his fingers around her erect clit. He strokes around it, feeling each time he hits a different sensitive bit, feels the way a short gentle stroke under it can make Erica's thighs quiver. 

Her breast is brushing along his cheek and it takes nothing to turn, taking in the sight of porn-level tits. Her nipples are big and such a pretty pink, so much lighter than his own. When he licks at one Erica fists her hands in his hair, tightening until it _hurts_ , so he sucks and bites and does whatever he can, fingers never stopping. 

"Harder," she moans, bucking against his fingers and fucking riding his hand. 

He bites on a nipple as hard as he dares, focuses his fingers on the spot on her clit that makes her grind down. There's the glow edging out of her, flowing into him already, and as she gets closer, it gets stronger and stronger. He can feel it flowing into his veins, like the first bite of a sandwich when you didn't realise how hungry you were, more, he needs _more_. 

She's silent as she comes, and he wonders if that's because she spent too many years jerking off at home, with parents within earshot, too. The fact that she nearly smothers him when she comes is neither here nor there because holy mother of god, the energy, the power that flows from her is unreal. It's more than Scott, it's so much more than Derek, it's so much Stiles feels like he's going to float right out of the room. 

The gold is flowing in streams from all over her, there's a stronger current from her cunt, but some from wherever he's touching her. It peaks as she does, fading out as sticky, slick comes out of Erica's twitching hole onto his palm. 

He slips a finger inside and feels the contractions. He strokes inside, but gets little reaction from Erica, just a deep, satiated sigh.

*

By the time she rolls the condom down his cock he's beyond hard, pathetically dribbling pre-come. 

"How do you want me?" Erica asks, perfectly comfortable in Derek's loft, reeking of sweat and come, of sex. 

Tens of positions from porn flash before his eyes and it's just, it's too much choice. "What's your favourite?" 

Erica thinks for a minute. "It depends on my mood, and my favorite with Boyd is all--" She pauses. "It's the intimacy of it that I love, I don't think it'd be the same with you." 

Stiles nods, he knows he doesn't get to keep this, that it's just sex between friends, it just makes him ache a little, for someone that he can be intimate with, in every sense of the word. 

She bumps his shoulder with hers. "Wanna do something porny and filthy?" Her wicked grin is back and Stiles loves it, loves her. 

"What're you thinking?" 

"How do you feel about face down, ass up?" 

Stiles gulps, he can just imagine her, face pressed into the-- oh shit he doesn't have to imagine it, Erica's turning around and bending over. The perfect curve of her ass makes the cutest fucking heart shape and Stiles just, whoa, that went right to his dick. He grabs at his balls, pulling at them to try and stop himself from coming before he even gets inside. 

"C'mon Stiles," Erica calls, face muffled by the bedding. She reaches back to pull her lips apart, her hair matted with her juices. Stiles did that, he brought her off, fuck, fuck. Her hole looks so small, his dick isn't exactly massive, but, how is it supposed to...

He reaches forward and trails a finger up from her clit, right up to where her hole is waiting for him. It flutters as he strokes it, a little of Erica's juices seeping out. "You're so tiny." 

Erica's laughs, low and rough. "I've had bigger than _you_ in me, don't worry, I can take this." 

He slips a finger in, it's looser now that she's come down from her orgasm, but it's so much wetter, he slips a second in without any trouble, and a third. 

"Rub down while you're inside." She sighs as he does, and it's such a pretty sigh. 

The condom crinkles as he rubs it along her slit, slicking it in her juices. She pushes back as he starts rubbing her off with his cock, it's fucking unreal, it's good on his dick, he wonders if this is anything like a blowjob, someone licking the tip of his cock. 

He gets into it, maybe too much, and the gold starts flowing as he carefully works her clit with just the tip of his dick, until: "Cut it out, Stiles, and stick it in me." 

"But..." The flow of gold ebbs as he repositions himself at her entrance. "Are you sure?" He asks again, he wants to be sure, he wants to know he's not controlling her, that's she's got a choice. "Look at me, Erica."

She pushes herself up a little, and cranes her neck until she can look him in the eye. Her lids are half closed, but there's not the glazed distant look like the guy in the club, or Danny, or Scott, or any of the people he'd accidentally controlled. 

"I'm sure, Stiles. Now give it to me, boldly go where some men have gone before, but where you most definitely haven't."

Stiles lets out an amused snort and presses forward, the head of his dick sliding easily into her cunt. It's-- wow, okay, this is-- nice, it's nice, it's-- wow. "Wow." 

"Mmm." Erica stretches as he slowly slides into her, more cat than wolf. "Good boy," she praises. 

When he's all the way in, his hairy thighs press against her smooth ones he stills. That's it, his virginity well and truly gone in every sense of the word. "Wow." 

Erica laughs again and he's glad there's been so much laughter between the two of them, especially for this. Derek had been okay and awkward, the guy in the club had been impersonal; there was no better way that Stiles could think of to lose his virginity than in the arms, uh, in the, um, _in_ his friend. 

"You gonna just stand there, or you gonna fuck me?" 

Stiles rolls his eyes, he'd never expect anything less than demanding from Erica, so he does. He thrusts into her and honest to god he's surprised he doesn't come right then. He manages barely anything, five or six thrusts before he's curling over her back, sweaty forehead sticking to Erica's golden curls, and coming. 

As he bucks into her too soon, he knows it's too soon, but fuck, she's so tight and hot and, and, Erica's milking his orgasm out of him, clenching clenching around his cock.

His breath is easy to catch, but when he tries to pull out, Erica stops him with a werewolf-strong hand on his wrist. 

"You pull out, you put on a new condom, and you get back in there. Your job isn't over just yet. Got it?" 

Stiles debates whether his dick apparently not going soft unless he wants it to is a blessing or a curse. 

"I said, got it?" 

"Yes, yeah, god Erica, this is, fuck, my dick. _My dick_ feels like everything is too much. I might need a minute, just a minute." 

She pouts at him over her shoulder and he leans forward for a kiss, it's messy and at completely the wrong angle so they end up clacking teeth a couple of times, but that doesn't stop it being hot. 

When Stiles's cock is covered with a fresh condom, carefully rolled on amid many winces, Erica ghosts her fingers over it. "When I've just come, and I want to again but I'm too sensitive, I do this to my clit." 

She carries on lightly touching his dick, massaging the base, his balls, and fuck, yeah, okay, this is working. This is definitely working, he's not shying away from her touches anymore, but rolling his hips into them. How the hell did that just work? 

"Mmm, good boy. Now get back in there and fuck me right." 

Erica's cunt welcomes him back in, and he keeps up a pace this time, until she's writhing under him, he knows it's hard to get a girl off from this alone, he did google this shit, thank you very much, so he slips a few fingers down to her clit. 

As Erica writhes beneath him he knows there's no other way he would have done this, no other way he wants to feed than in the arms of his friends. Fuck the rest of the universe, he's the luckiest incubus there is, and this is most definitely the best way to lose the last of his virginity.

**Author's Note:**

> [saspiesas.tumblr.com](http://saspiesas.tumblr.com)


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